In the Closet
by Leona Esperanza
Summary: Tony and Jimmy have been kidnapped and locked into a closet together.  Written for the Locked Room Challenge on NFA.  Pre-slash/slash, Tony/Jimmy.   Sorry, this should have been marked as 'complete' after Chapter 7.
1. Chapter 1

Title: "In the Closet"  
>Genre: HurtComfort, Romance  
>Characters: Tony DiNozzo, Jimmy Palmer<br>Rating: FR15  
>Spoilers: None<br>Prompt: Written for the Locked Room Challenge on NFA  
>Warnings: Pre-slash, slash (non-explicit)<p>

Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, I would never have let them out…

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

The third thing that Tony became aware of upon returning to consciousness was a pair of hands on his chest and shoulder, holding him down so that he didn't move. He heard a man's voice murmuring indistinct words in a soothing tone, but for the moment he couldn't think of who it might be.

The second thing Tony knew was that he was laying on a hard surface, only thinly padded by – carpet? He was on the floor, then, although where that floor was located was anyone's guess.

But the first thing that Tony DiNozzo was aware of was the pain. His right shoulder felt like it had been torn from its socket; sharp, hot pain radiated down his arm and across his chest. His head ached and the rest of his body felt battered and bruised, but those hurts were almost insignificant when compared to the fire in his shoulder.

He tried to think, to remember how he'd managed to get himself into this situation, but recent events were tangled into a chaotic web of aural and visual impressions, with random input from the other senses now and again. First, he remembered pain – a sudden burst of it exploding at the back of his head. Then loud sounds, unfamiliar voices, all around him. Just as he was beginning to make out what they were saying, someone grabbed him and threw him roughly over a shoulder, and the resulting vertigo was enough to drive out all other sensory input for a short while.

Then he was set down on the ground again, and for a moment he felt relief. That lasted for all of two seconds, until strong hands grabbed his arm and shoulder. His unseen assailant said something – to him? to someone else? – then wrenched Tony's arm. The familiar pain of a dislocated shoulder caused Tony to cry out, and the last semi-clear memory he had was the sound of laughter and screaming entwined in a sadistic harmony.

Back in the present, Tony groaned and tried to curl his body into a ball. But someone was holding him down, pinning him to the ground. Opening his eyes, he saw only the dark silhouette of a man leaning over him, surrounded by a halo of bright light. Adrenaline surged through his body, and in a moment of panic, Tony brought his left arm up and around, aiming toward the man's face. He felt his fist connect with flesh and bone, and the man screamed in pain and fell away from him, collapsing to the floor.

As Tony struggled to a seated position, he realized that the pain in his shoulder was not as bad as it had been just moments before; it seemed that someone had at least popped the arm back into the socket. He looked around wildly, searching for something to use as a weapon, and his first thought was, _What the hell am I doing in a woman's closet?_

His second thought was spoken aloud, as he looked down at the person he had assumed was his assailant. The man was shielding his face with both hands as he moaned in pain, but there was no mistaking that lean figure – or the NCIS coveralls that he wore.

"Palmer?"

Cautiously, Jimmy Palmer raised his head, his hands falling away to reveal his face – the skin around one eye already puffy and bruised, the other just beginning to swell. His lip had been cut, but the blood had already begun to clot. The cut, however, didn't look anywhere near large enough to be the source of the blood that coated the front of his coveralls.

He sat up, scrambling backward to put a little more distance between himself and the man who had just decked him.

"Jesus, Palmer, I'm sorry –"

"It's okay, Tony, it's alright." But Jimmy flinched visibly as he came up hard against the wall, making Tony's stomach clench. It made him sick to see the fear on Jimmy's face, to know that he was responsible for it –

Partly responsible. Tony blinked and looked again. He'd swung once, with his left hand, so the new swelling next to Jimmy's right eye was his fault. But the bruising on Jimmy's left cheekbone had to have been done some time ago, and the cut on his lip was also on his left side. His glasses were conspicuously absent; where had they disappeared to? And where had all that blood come from?

"What the hell happened, Palmer?"

Jimmy took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the wall. The younger man crawled over and sat next to him, hands reaching toward Tony's injured shoulder. "Let me see what it looks like," Jimmy said softly. His hands trembled slightly as he gently felt around the joint. "I didn't get to check it after I popped it back in."

Tony nodded in understanding. _That_ must have been why his shoulder hurt so badly when he awoke, and why the pain was fading somewhat now. He knew the reprieve wouldn't last – the swelling and bruising would get worse over time – but he was glad that Jimmy had known how to pop the bone back into place. _Of course he'd know,_ Tony then thought, impatient with himself. _He's only a med student, after all._

"That's the best I'm going to be able to do for your shoulder til we're out of here," Jimmy said apologetically, moving around behind Tony. Tony felt the other man's hands on the back of his head, parting his hair so he could see the scalp. "How's the head feel?"

"Like I got hit with something," Tony replied, but his heart wasn't really into the teasing. Jimmy's fingers touched a tender spot near the top of his head, and he winced. "How does it look?"

"Like you got hit with something." Jimmy came back around in front of Tony. He slid his fingers under Tony's chin and tilted his head up. "Look toward the light."

Tony did so, blinking rapidly as his eyes began to water. From his peripheral vision, he could see Jimmy looking at him intently, and surmised that the young doctor-to-be was checking to see how his pupils responded to the light. Then he held up a finger and had Tony track it left and right, up and down, while he watched. Whatever he saw must not have been too bad, Tony figured, since he didn't look worried. Correction – he didn't look _more_ worried.

Jimmy finally nodded and let him go, but Tony grabbed his arm before he could move away again.

"Jimmy, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"

"I know, Tony." Jimmy's eyes met his. "It's okay."

He pulled away and stood up, moving around the tiny room. "Let me see if I can find something to use as a sling. You're not going to want to move that arm."

At that, Tony finally looked around at the room they were in. His first impression, that of a woman's walk-in closet, seemed accurate. _What the hell?_ The last thing he clearly remembered was investigating a crime scene out in the middle of a state park in Virginia. How'd they get here? And where was everyone else?

He put those questions out of his mind and examined the room. At a guess, he'd say it was about six feet wide and eight or so feet deep –just long enough for him to lie down somewhat comfortably, if sleeping on the floor was anyone's idea of comfort. One wall of the closet supported a shelf at approximately chin height – if he were standing – with a clothing rod directly below. There was nothing on the rod aside from a few plastic hangers, but the shelf held what looked like several sweaters on one side, and spare bedding – blankets and pillows – on the other.

He twisted around to see the wall behind him. This wall had two shelves – one just high enough for him to sit under without hitting his head, the other just a little higher than the shelf on the opposite wall. The lower shelf held more clothing – jeans, T-shirts, sweaters. Boxes were stacked on the upper shelf. They were carefully labeled: "Picture Frames," "Knick-knacks," "Books," and other uninteresting, useless items.

He turned his attention to the door. "Have you tried opening that yet?"

Jimmy had been sorting through the clothing on the lower shelf. Tony watched as his whole body tensed, his hands convulsively gripping the sweater he was holding. Eyes closed, he swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was several seconds before he found his voice, and then he whispered, "Yes, Tony, I tried the door. There's a deadbolt."

Jimmy's reaction puzzled him; so did his response.

"Who the hell puts a deadbolt on a _closet_?"

It was meant mostly as a rhetorical question, but as Jimmy had a habit of answering rhetorical questions – often with a wholly inappropriate comment – Tony was surprised when the younger man remained silent. He looked at Jimmy, still standing motionless with his eyes squeezed shut, then looked back to the door. It took a moment for his brain to kick in, and then he wanted to Gibbs-slap himself. "Shit. You're claustrophobic, aren't you?"

Jimmy shot him what was clearly intended to be a dirty look, but the fear was plain on his face. Tony winced. He hadn't meant to say that out loud – he didn't want to make the kid feel more uncomfortable than he obviously already was – but it was too late now.

Jimmy took another breath, then another, deliberately relaxing the muscles that had tightened up when the fear hit him. After a moment, he let go of the sweater, though his hands still shook as he went back to sorting through the piles of clothing. Before long, he pulled a blue sweater out from the pile and crouched down in front of Tony. "Let's see what we can do with this."

After some trial and error, they found that they could make a passable, if uncomfortable, sling by tying the arms of the sweater around Tony's opposite shoulder. But the arms weren't quite long enough to make a stable knot. "Wait, see if she's got any cardigans."

The green cardigan sweater that Jimmy found, when unbuttoned, gave them more to work with. A few minutes later, Tony's right arm was bound securely to his chest. It wouldn't completely immobilize the shoulder, but as long as he was careful, it would work well enough until he could receive proper medical attention.

Whenever that might be…


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone for the reviews and story alerts! I apologize for the delay in posting - I had to finish my SeSa 2011 fic, which was just a beast to write. This story _is _finished, don't worry, but posting might be a bit erratic due to the holidays. I'll do the best I can, promise!

Oh, yeah - still don't own them. I asked for them for Christmas, but was told that demand far exceeded supply. Oh, well...

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

Thinking of medical necessities reminded Tony… "Jimmy, where'd all that blood come from?" He gestured to the front of Jimmy's coveralls.

"It's yours." When Tony gave him a puzzled look, Jimmy tapped the back of his own head to indicate the approximate spot where Tony had been hit. "Head wounds bleed a lot, but it doesn't look too serious. I was more concerned about a concussion, but you seem to be doing okay."

Jimmy scooted backward until his back was up against the door. He pulled his legs in close and wrapped his arms around his knees, watching Tony intently.

"Yeah. Got a bit of a headache, but it's not too bad." Then Tony narrowed his eyes. Jimmy was getting pretty good at deflecting the conversation away from himself. He decided to broaden his questions, see if Jimmy would let anything slip. "How'd we get here?"

He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he'd get, but he wasn't expecting to be so disturbed by it.

Jimmy's face went pale beneath the bruising; his arms tightened around his legs, and he seemed to huddle into the door, as if he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the wood. His eyes dropped to stare at the floor, but Tony was sure that Jimmy found the beige carpet no more interesting to look at than he did. He could see that Jimmy was shaking, but he was afraid to move closer, concerned that crowding him would set off a panic attack. He held his position, fingers digging into the carpet, waiting for Jimmy to make the next move.

Jimmy finally looked up, though he was still avoiding looking at Tony. He stared at the opposite wall of the closet and asked, "How much do you remember?"

"Not much," Tony said truthfully. While waiting for Jimmy to speak, he'd cast his mind back again, but most of what he could recall – brief flashes of light, blurred faces, strange sounds – didn't make much sense. He was hoping that Jimmy could tell him something that would help him construct a framework into which he could insert those flashes and force them to make sense. To prompt him to continue, Tony described what he was sure of. "I know we were at the crime scene. I remember getting hit, and – I think I remember someone dislocating my shoulder –"

Jimmy flinched – almost imperceptibly, but Tony was watching for it. "I'm sorry, Tony," he whispered, glancing briefly in his direction before returning his gaze to the wall. "That was my fault."

"How?" Tony stared at Jimmy in disbelief. "I mean, it's easier to dislocate a joint that's been dislocated before, and I know you've been working out, but – I'm sorry, Palmer, but I can't see you doing that bare-handed. No way."

"I didn't actually _do_ it, Tony." Jimmy hugged his knees even tighter. "But it was my fault."

Tony held up his good hand. "Hold on there, Palmer. Why don't we start at the beginning?"

Jimmy nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor again as he thought. "We were out at Sky Meadows Park," he started. "We were almost done, and then the rangers reported that they'd found another body not too far away –"

Tony nodded; he remembered being upset that they were going to have to start all over again and process _another_ crime scene. He'd been looking forward to seeing the new episode of _Chuck_ that night; now, there was no way they'd get back in time.

"So Dr. Mallard left me to finish getting the Marine into the van, and Agent Gibbs left you to babysit me –" Jimmy blushed and turned his head away slightly.

"We weren't going to let you get hurt at another crime scene, Jimmy," Tony interrupted. Then he gestured with his good hand at the two of them, and sighed. "Some guard _I_ was."

"It wasn't your fault, Tony," Jimmy insisted, turning to face him. "I didn't even hear them until the first one knocked you out. There were four of them, and they – they had guns. There was nothing you could have done."

Tony sighed again and ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he touched the place where he'd been hit. He grimaced when he felt the dried blood in his hair; God, he wanted a shower. He returned to the topic at hand: "Okay, so they hit me. Then what?"

Jimmy's hands tightened into fists, but that was the only outward reaction that Tony saw. He was clearly fighting to stay in control, to stay calm. "One of them pointed his gun at me. Said if I yelled for help, I'd be dead."

He struggled to take a deep breath. "The guy who hit you picked you up, and the one with the gun told me to follow him. The other two stayed behind. We walked – there was a car parked on the road. Brown car. I saw the license plate. I tried – I tried to send it to Abby – later on – but there wasn't a signal – and then they – they took the phone –"

"Whoa, slow down, Jimmy," Tony interrupted. Jimmy's breath was coming in short gasps; his whole body was shaking. "Just breathe. Relax. Just breathe for me. You're okay now…"

He slowly began to inch his way toward the door, toward Jimmy. The younger man was still shaking, but he didn't move away, and Tony took that as a good sign. Using just the one hand was awkward, but Tony managed to slide himself across the floor until he was sitting next to Jimmy. Then he turned to put his back against the door and, still moving slowly, rested his good hand on Jimmy's near shoulder.

The muscles under Tony's hand jumped at the contact, which made Tony bite his lip. But instead of pulling away again, Jimmy simply closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He held his breath for a moment, then slowly let it out again. As he did so, the tension fell from his shoulders; every muscle went slack, and he lowered his head to rest it on his raised knees. He took another deep breath, let it out; and Tony could feel his body relax even further.

After a few more breaths, Jimmy raised his head and turned to look at Tony. The fear was still visible in his eyes, but muted now. "Thank you," he whispered.

Tony tugged lightly on Jimmy's shoulder; taking the hint, Jimmy leaned back, allowing Tony to put his arm around him. He crossed his arms tightly over his stomach; his body language still screamed _fear_, but at least he didn't seem to be afraid of Tony.

Tony thought of several things he wanted to do at that moment, most of them variations on the same theme: he wanted to hold Jimmy closer, kiss away his fears. But there were a thousand reasons why that was a bad idea, not least of which was the fact that Jimmy, as far as he knew, had never shown an inclination toward men. Not that Tony showed it, either – at least, not to his coworkers. But Tony had had almost as many male lovers in his life as female; he liked to think of himself as an equal-opportunity letch.

He shook his head slightly to dispel those thoughts. Jimmy didn't need someone making a move on him right now; what he needed was a friend. To that end, Tony gently pulled Jimmy closer (and did _not_ kiss him, no matter how much he wanted to). "Hey. How ya doing?"

Jimmy drew in a slightly shaky breath. "I've been better. You?"

"Likewise." Tony paused to consider his phrasing. "Jimmy… you know I won't hurt you, right? Not on purpose, anyway," he hastily added, thinking of the bruising that was likely to result from his overreaction earlier.

"I know." The words were whispered softly.

"So… would you do something for me?"

He felt Jimmy tense, just a little. "What – what do you –?"

Tony wanted to touch Jimmy's face, to stroke his skin, but he held back – all other reasons aside, he didn't know where to touch him that wouldn't hurt. So instead, he squeezed Jimmy's shoulder gently. "When it gets bad – when you're scared – don't pull away. You don't have to run from me. I won't hurt you, I promise."

Jimmy went completely still under his arm – so much so, that Tony was afraid he'd said something horribly wrong. Then slowly, hesitantly, he allowed himself to relax into Tony's embrace, going so far as to lay his head on Tony's shoulder. His body was still shaking slightly, but his breathing was steadier; and Tony entertained the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could keep Jimmy calm until help arrived.

Provided they were found before their kidnappers returned…

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><p>AN: So, just to let everyone know - this was my first slash fic, originally written over a year ago. As such, I made some of the mistakes that a lot of slash writers do when starting out. I continually strive to improve my writing, so if you've got constructive criticism, feel free to share it; as long as it's offered with the intent to help me improve, I won't be offended. I could have tried to revise this story, but decided to leave it as it is since it's the jumping-off point for several other Tony/Jimmy stories I'm working on. (Yes, there will be more!)

As always, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tony leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes briefly. He didn't really want to do it, but he needed to know… "Do you think you can try talking about it again?"

He felt Jimmy nod against his shoulder. "Yeah."

"Okay." Tony took a moment to focus on his own breathing, to slow it down, taking deeper breaths. After a moment, he noticed Jimmy's breath slowing to match his, and he smiled slightly. It was not unlike those times after sex, when he'd lay with his partner, both of them completely relaxed – finally – their breathing in sync, until they both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms…

_Focus, Tony._ He just needed to keep his breathing slow and steady; he knew that one person's panic could escalate another's, so he needed to avoid showing even the slightest sign of his own anxieties.

"Let's take this one step at a time," he suggested, and Jimmy nodded. "You said they took us to a car?"

"Yeah." Tony felt Jimmy's shoulders begin to tense again. "It was – it was an older Chevy – I think – brown, four doors." His breathing became shorter, faster. "It was a sedan – one of those – old, big – sedans – and they – they –"

"Shh, shh." Tony really wished he could use both hands; he wanted to hold Jimmy against him, make him feel protected, safe. One arm just didn't cut it. "Slow down, Jimmy. Slow breaths, like this…"

He held Jimmy while the other man attempted to calm down again. What was it about this car that had him so badly frightened? Sure, he wouldn't expect anyone to not be scared while being kidnapped, but Jimmy hadn't sounded this bad even when he talked about being threatened with the gun. Was it covered in blood? Was it being driven by Freddy Krueger?

Then he realized. He'd asked at least twice how Jimmy had received his injuries, and each time Jimmy had managed to avoid answering. Now he was trying to tell the whole story of their kidnapping, but couldn't get past describing the car. No – last time, Jimmy jumped _ahead_ in the story, describing how he'd tried to contact Abby to tell her about the car, and how the attempt was thwarted. So…

When Jimmy was reasonably calm again, he braced himself and asked the question. "Jimmy, what happened when we got to the car? What did they do?"

He heard a startled gasp; then Jimmy abruptly sat up, pulling away from Tony's arm. But as soon as Tony's hand lost contact with him, Jimmy froze. His whole body trembled, his breathing was fast and shallow, and his wide eyes stared at nothing; but he remained where he was, still within reach.

Tony decided to wait and see if Jimmy would pull himself together. He was heartened by the fact that, while Jimmy had pulled away in startled reflex, he hadn't run to the other side of the closet again. So he waited, and his patience was eventually rewarded when Jimmy slowly settled back into his embrace and turned to bury his face against Tony's shoulder.

Tony stroked Jimmy's hair and murmured soothing nonsense, hiding his concern. What had they done to him? He hoped Jimmy would tell him; what Tony was imagining was probably – hopefully – far worse than the actual reality, but he wanted the reassurance that he was overreacting.

He was just wondering if it was too soon to try pressing him again, when Jimmy surprised him by speaking first.

"They took us to – to the car. The big guy – he was carrying you – he laid you on the ground. Then they –" Jimmy stopped to take a deep breath – "they opened the trunk of the car…"

Tony's hand tightened in Jimmy's hair; unconsciously, he pressed his lips to the top of Jimmy's head. No fucking _wonder_ he was having so much trouble in here, crammed with Tony into this tiny closet after having been shoved into a car trunk!

"They told me to get in – I – I couldn't, I just _couldn't _–"

Tony forced himself to loosen his grip in Jimmy's hair, to rest his hand lightly on the back of Jimmy's neck. "Oh, Jimmy…" What he _wanted_ to do was beat the shit out of somebody – preferably, their kidnappers. But that was going to have to wait. "What did they do, baby? What did they do to you?"

Tony hadn't meant to let that slip, and when Jimmy raised his head, he was sure that the younger man was going to pull away and never let Tony near him again. But Jimmy's eyes met his squarely, tear-filled hazel to green, and Tony was shocked when Jimmy's hand came up to touch his cheek. "Not me," he whispered. The tears overflowed and spilled down Jimmy's face. "Not me."

Tony frowned in puzzlement.

Jimmy dropped his hand, bowing his head. "The guy with the gun – he said he'd shoot me if I didn't get in. Then the big guy – he said, 'No, that'll make too much noise,' and he – he –"

Jimmy swallowed hard and began to shake violently. "He said he'd break your arm if I didn't – and I tried, I _tried_ – but I wasn't going fast enough and he just laughed and then he pulled your arm and I heard it pop and then you screamed and oh, God, Tony I am so sorry –!"

He curled in on himself, sobbing hysterically.

Tony was horrified. "Jimmy, _no!_" Knowing he was going to pay for it later, Tony pulled his right arm out of the sling and tossed it aside so that he could wrap both arms around Jimmy and pull him to his chest. "It's not your fault, baby, it's not your fault…" He rocked the younger man in his arms, tears filling his eyes at the thought of what Jimmy had gone through. "Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay…"

Having lost the control he'd been struggling to hold onto, it took a while for Jimmy to cry himself out. Tony held him close, gently shushing him every time he tried to apologize for things that he'd had no control over. In his mind, Tony was plotting what he'd like to do to the man who'd used _him_ to hurt Jimmy. The fact that he'd hurt Tony as well didn't thrill him either; but as a field agent, Tony had accepted that there was a certain amount of physical danger inherent in his job. But Jimmy wasn't an agent; he was supposed to stay safely out of the line of fire. And while Tony realized that it was ridiculous to expect the bad guys to distinguish between an agent, who was fair game, and a nonagent, who wasn't, he still wanted to roast this guy slowly over a bonfire until he learned the difference.

Thoughts of revenge kept him from worrying about the other issue on his mind: the man in his arms, and what was going to happen when it was time for Tony to let him go. Because Tony didn't _want_ to let him go…

But eventually, out-of-control sobbing turned to quieter weeping, which slowly faded until Jimmy rested calmly in his arms, only the occasional hiccup – and the damp spot on Tony's shirt – giving witness to the emotional storm that had blown through. Tony closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of Jimmy's breathing, the feel of Jimmy's chest rising and falling against his own, because he knew that all too soon, he'd lose the opportunity –

Sure enough, after a few minutes, Jimmy tensed in his arms and pulled away. But not to the far end of the closet, as Tony feared and expected. Instead, he rose to his feet and stepped over Tony's legs to crouch at his right side, shaking his head at the sight of the cardigan that had been tossed to the floor.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "Tony, your shoulder –"

"It's okay, Jimmy. It doesn't hurt that much."

"It's going to." Jimmy picked up the discarded cardigan and motioned for Tony to lean forward, away from the wall, so he could wrap it around him again. "We need to keep it stable until we know for sure what we're dealing with."

He finished tying the sweater back into place, then returned to Tony's left side and sat down – not leaning into him, as he had before, but near enough that if Tony wanted to put his arm around him, he could.

Tony was beginning to ponder the advisability of doing just that when he finally got a good look at Jimmy's face in the light – bruised, swollen, and streaked with drying tears. His left eye was ringed in black, and the right eye – the one that Tony had hit – was puffy and beginning to darken.

He reached for Jimmy's face, then hesitated. "Jimmy, I'm sorry. That's gotta hurt. Is there anything –?"

Jimmy shook his head. "Not unless you've got an icepack or two on you – or you can find one in here." He gestured at the boxes stored high above.

"Not likely." Tony started to pull his hand back, then changed his mind and rested it on Jimmy's shoulder. "How did it happen?"

Jimmy looked down; Tony could feel his shoulder tensing again. "After – after that guy hurt you, I totally lost it. He – I was afraid he was gonna hurt you again, and I _know_ I should've just done what they wanted, but – I lost it. I ran at him, and, well –" Jimmy motioned to his face with one hand. "You can see what happened."

"God, Palmer, you could have been shot!"

"I know." He shrugged his shoulders. "I wasn't thinking very clearly. After he hit me, I wasn't thinking _at all_ for a minute or two, so they just grabbed me and threw me in, and you after me. I wish – I wish they'd just done that in the first place; then you wouldn't have been hurt –"

Tony grimaced. "There's no guarantee of that. This guy sounds like a sadist. I bet he enjoyed every minute of it."

Jimmy nodded, rubbing his hands against his arms unconsciously.

Tony pulled Jimmy closer, settled his arm around the younger man's shoulders again. He wasn't sure how to interpret Jimmy's body language, but so far, nothing he'd done had seemed to frighten him off. He decided he'd see how far he could go, but slowly. He was afraid that he might be taking advantage of Jimmy's obvious insecurity; he thought, though, that Jimmy would be assertive enough to stop him if he went too far. At least, he hoped so.

"That's when I lost my glasses," Jimmy commented, his hand rising unconsciously to touch the frames that weren't there. "They're probably broken – but I hope that bastard scratched himself on them and left some DNA for Abby…"

Abby. That reminded Tony… "Didn't you say you tried calling her?"

"Yeah." Jimmy began toying with his watch as he spoke – to give himself something to focus on, Tony thought. "They didn't take our phones right away – I think they were in too much of a hurry to leave before Gibbs and everyone came back. So I tried calling, but I couldn't get a good signal. It would start to go through and then the call would drop. So I typed a text message, and I was watching the bars to see if we'd get close to a tower or something, get a better signal. Besides" – Jimmy shrugged – "at least I had some light."

Tony turned his gaze inward, remembering. He'd had impressions of a dark place, lit with a wildly waving light; he remembered being bounced around. That would be the car ride, and Jimmy trying to send the message. But he also remembered – "Was that – were you holding onto me?"

Jimmy's face turned bright red. "I – yeah, I – I was," he stammered. "I was trying to keep you from getting bounced around too hard. Your shoulder was still out, and –"

Tony couldn't help but smile at Jimmy's discomfiture. "It's okay, Jimmy," he teased, squeezing the other man closer for a moment. "I don't mind."

"Yeah, I – I noticed." Suddenly Jimmy's voice was softer, more hesitant. He started to raise his hand to touch Tony's where it rested on his shoulder, then abruptly changed his mind and wrapped his arms around his stomach again. His gaze shifted to the far wall. "An-anyway, they stopped the car before I got a signal. I hit 'send' anyway, just in case… and then the big guy opened the trunk and grabbed the phone… made me get yours out of your pocket… and he threw them, into a field, I think. I tried to see, but he closed the lid again too fast…"

_And left you in the dark_. For once, Tony managed to not blurt out what he was thinking, but he unconsciously hugged Jimmy a little tighter. His vague memories added to Jimmy's story and painted the scene in his mind's eye – a dark, enclosed space, an unconscious federal agent, and a claustrophobic assistant M.E. trying to protect him while fighting off a full-blown panic attack…

It was not a pretty picture – just as well, perhaps, that it was mainly painted in black.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

An incongruous thought intruded as Tony reviewed Jimmy's story. "You said before that you were trying to send the license plate number to Abby?"

Jimmy nodded absently, still staring off into space.

He couldn't think of a better way to phrase it. "No offense, Jimmy, but… how'd you manage to remember it after all that?"

Surprisingly, this caused Jimmy to look at him sideways and smile. "When you're in med school, you learn how to use a lot of different mnemonic devices. If you can't make a sentence out of a bunch of random letters and numbers, you'll never make it out of first year." Then he sighed, and the smile slipped away. "Not that it's going to do a lot of good if it didn't get through to Abby."

Tony laughed, prompting Jimmy to turn to him in puzzlement. "Doesn't matter, Jimmy," he said. He adjusted his position against the door, trying to find a more comfortable spot. "They'll find our phones by GPS, and I know Abby or Tim will check for the last text or phone call made from them. Then they'll put out a BOLO – hell, they probably have already. It's just a matter of time, but they _will_ find us."

He was being deliberately, and probably unrealistically, optimistic; but after all this time, Tony's faith in Gibbs was unshakeable. He knew that there were plenty of obstacles that could be thrown in the way. But they had the best investigative team in the country looking for them; if anyone could find them, it would be Gibbs and company. And maybe he and Jimmy could do something to improve their situation in the meantime.

He looked speculatively around the room. There wasn't much here, but… "Hey, let's find out what's in those boxes. It'll probably just be a lot of junk, but we should check anyway."

Jimmy stood and stretched, then reached a hand down to help pull Tony to his feet. "You have something in mind, or are you just bored?"

"Both, actually." Tony blinked as the room spun around him; after a moment, however, the spell passed. He pointed to one of the boxes. "I don't think we'll find anything useful in there, but maybe we should look anyway."

Jimmy squinted. "Why, what does it say?"

Tony rather liked the way Jimmy looked without his glasses – though perhaps not at the moment with all the bruising – but clearly Jimmy was lost without them, at least for anything farther than a few feet away.

"It's full of books – or at least it says it is."

Jimmy reached up and tugged the box off of the shelf. "No way, it's way too light," he said, dropping it on the floor. It hit with a loud thud, and Tony raised his eyebrows.

"Light?"

"For books, yeah." Jimmy went to one knee and began ripping off the tape that held the top on. He glanced up at Tony and grinned. "They're a little heavier than DVDs, Tony."

"Hey, I can read!"

"Yeah, you just don't – whoa!"

"What?"

Jimmy pulled the lid the rest of the way off. The box was filled with, not books (or even DVDs), but… bags. Plastic bags, filled with white powder…

Tony ran his hand through his hair, then turned to look at the door. "Well, that explains the deadbolt."

* * *

><p>The rest of the boxes, while labeled differently, proved to be identical in content to the first. Jimmy shoved the last of them back onto the shelf, then turned and started pulling down the bedding from the opposite shelf. When Tony tilted his head, Jimmy shrugged. "No sense in being more uncomfortable than we have to, right?"<p>

Right – except now Tony was wondering just how to interpret Jimmy's move – at face value, or as something more?

He was pleased to see that Jimmy was setting up a place for them to sit at the back of the closet, rather than up against the door as they had been before. Not only was it going to be more comfortable to not have the doorjamb in his back, but he thought it meant that Jimmy was starting to relax a bit.

Jimmy helped Tony to sit. He was glad for the help; his shoulder was starting to throb, and every unintentional movement brought a sharp stab of pain. Jimmy slid a couple of pillows behind him, and he leaned back with a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

"Hey." He felt Jimmy's hand touch his good shoulder. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah. It's not the first time this has happened. I'll be fine."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Tony rolled his head toward Jimmy and opened his eyes to look at the younger man. "Sit with me."

Jimmy settled himself next to Tony, leaning back against the wall. He kept his hand on Tony's shoulder, a light touch when compared to the way Tony had held him earlier, but the small gesture spoke volumes. Despite the pain he was in, despite the unknown danger if their kidnappers should return, Tony found himself hoping that rescue wouldn't come just yet – not until he figured out the best way to approach Jimmy about…

About what? What, exactly, was he looking for? He hadn't questioned the impulse at first, but now he asked himself, _Am I just flirting with the poor kid out of habit? Just because he's here, and it's been a while since I've been with anyone? _He knew that both were valid questions, the kind of questions that Jimmy himself might be thinking right now. _He deserves an honest answer, if he asks. So really – why am I doing this?_

Without really thinking about it, Tony reached his arm around Jimmy and pulled him close; the younger man settled into his embrace automatically.

_Because… because this feels _right_. Don't ask me why, but it does. _It felt like the most natural thing in the world, holding onto Jimmy; he wished Jimmy would return the hug, but he knew that Jimmy wouldn't risk jostling Tony's shoulder. _He held onto me in the trunk,_ Tony remembered. _He was scared as hell, but he was trying to keep me from getting hurt worse. _And the way that Jimmy had acted when recounting how Tony's shoulder had been dislocated… _Of all the shit that has happened to him today, that was the thing that pushed him over the edge. That's… interesting._

He was distracted from his musings when he felt Jimmy shift position in order to look at him.

"Tony?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we going to do if they come back?"

Tony sighed. _That_ was what should be occupying his thoughts – a way to get himself and Jimmy out of this situation safely. _Then_ he could figure out what to do about this – whatever it was between the two of them. He blamed it on his head injury; he wouldn't have lost his focus if he hadn't been hit over the head. Well, probably not, anyway.

"Tony?"

"Oh, uh, sorry." Tony considered their predicament. "They're almost certainly going to come back at some point – for the drugs, if nothing else," he speculated. "Unless Gibbs gets here first, but we can't count on that."

"So we should work off the premise that at least one and maybe more of them will come back," Jimmy picked up his train of thought. "And more than likely, they'll be armed. And we're – uh –"

"Less armed than usual?" Tony asked with a glance at his right arm.

"I was trying not to say it." Jimmy looked down at his hands. "I make enough inappropriate comments as it is."

"Hardly inappropriate when it's true," Tony countered. "And you're right. We have to assume that they'll be armed. Now, I've got my knife –"

"Where?" Jimmy frowned at Tony. "They took your gun, and I went through your pockets. Where did you manage to hide a knife?"

"Belt buckle." Tony couldn't get to it with just one hand, and he didn't know how Jimmy would react if he were asked to help unbuckle his belt, so he didn't try to demonstrate. "It's pretty small, though – even if I had both hands, I wouldn't try to take on an armed man with it. I'm _especially_ not going to try it with my off hand. So we'll keep it hidden for now; might need it later."

Jimmy nodded, then looked around the closet. "We don't have much at all to work with," he observed. "Women's clothes, drugs... I know it's too much to ask that they leave anything useful in here, but still…"

"Yeah – MacGyver, I am not. I hate to say it, but… when they show up, I think we do what they want." Tony shrugged, then winced; he had to remember to stop doing that. "Until our situation changes, that's probably our best option."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When their situation did change, however, it didn't quite go the way Tony had expected.

They'd been talking about movies to pass the time. Jimmy lamented the fact that between NCIS and med school, he'd missed most of the summer's big releases. That prompted Tony to ask him what he would have seen if he'd had the time. Soon they were deep into a discussion of favorite movies, and Tony was putting together a list of classics that Jimmy had to see as soon as possible – "It's criminal to live in America and _not_ know these!"

"Yeah? Well, how can you have gone through school and not read –"

With a small pop, the lightbulb blew out.

The transition from light to sudden, complete darkness left Tony blinking furiously, trying to clear the colored spots that danced in front of his eyes. Beside him, Jimmy was as still and silent as a statue.

"Jimmy?" Tony gave his shoulder a little shake. No response. "Talk to me, Jimmy." Still nothing. Tony was starting to worry. "_Breathe_, Palmer!"

He heard a gasp, and then it was as if a dam had burst. Jimmy started to shake; the sound of his breathing filled the silence, growing louder as he began hyperventilating.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," Tony tried to reassure him. He pulled Jimmy closer. "You're okay, Jimmy, just relax, just slow down…"

He felt Jimmy clutch at his hand and squeeze it tightly; he squeezed back and smiled, even though the other man wouldn't see it. But the smile faded quickly when he realized that Jimmy was very likely flashing back to their involuntary car ride – trapped in the dark, with no room to move and no way out, very much like where they were now…

Tony wondered if holding Jimmy – trapping him in one place, crowding him – was the right thing to do after all, but when he experimentally loosened his hold, Jimmy gripped his hand still tighter and wouldn't let him go.

_I'm going to lose some fingers if I can't distract him somehow._ Tony tried to think of something, anything, to say to take Jimmy's mind off of their predicament, but he was drawing a blank. In desperation, and feeling rather guilty about it, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Why in the world would you and Michelle do it in a broom closet if you're claustrophobic?"

He was immediately afraid that he'd gone way too far, but to his surprise, Jimmy began laughing – a tad hysterically, true, but it seemed to be genuine laughter.

"Tony, I – I have to give you credit," Jimmy gasped. He was still struggling to catch his breath, but this was far better, in Tony's view, than before. "I've been waiting for you to ask that question since we got here."

Tony waited a moment, then prompted him, "Well?"

Jimmy leaned into his shoulder, loosening his death-grip on Tony's fingers; he began to slow his breathing, deliberately trying to regain his composure. Tony turned his attention back to his own breath, once again providing the baseline that Jimmy could focus on.

After a few deeper breaths, Jimmy responded. "That was a totally different situation, for three reasons." He paused to breathe. "One, I knew I could get out again." Another deep breath, while Tony gently rubbed the back of Jimmy's hand with his thumb. "Two, it was the only place available." Jimmy rested his head on Tony's chest; Tony shifted his hand to the back of Jimmy's head, running his fingers through the younger man's hair.

Something seemed different; Tony couldn't quite put his finger on it, but somehow, the atmosphere in the closet seemed… different. He continued to keep his breathing slow and even, but he would be very surprised if Jimmy couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. "And three?"

Jimmy lifted his head; Tony couldn't see him, but sensed that he was very close. "I had someone keeping me from thinking about it," he whispered, and if that wasn't an invitation, Tony thought, then he would eat his very expensive Italian shoes.

Tony traced the line of Jimmy's jaw with his fingers, as much to give Jimmy a chance to change his mind as to determine how close he was; the absolute darkness of the closet was disorienting. Jimmy didn't pull away; after a moment, Tony felt a hand touch the side of his face, mirroring his position. He could feel that Jimmy was still shaking, but he was beginning to consider the idea that perhaps the younger man was not as frightened as he'd thought…

He leaned in, slowly – and it was a good thing that he was being so cautious, because suddenly Jimmy moved forward to meet him, all hesitation lost. Their lips met; Tony slipped his hand behind Jimmy's head and clenched his fingers in his hair when Jimmy parted his lips to allow him inside. Jimmy's own hand slid to Tony's chest and grasped his shirt collar, pulling him even closer.

Despite Tony's injuries, things might have progressed very quickly – but a muffled sound from outside the closet startled them both and they pulled apart. Jimmy started to speak, but Tony pressed his fingers against the other man's lips.

They sat in silence, scarcely daring to breathe, until they heard it again – faint by the time it reached their ears, but there was no mistaking the sound of a gun being fired.

"Do you think it might be Gibbs?" Jimmy whispered.

"I hope so, but we need to be prepared for if it's not," Tony responded. "We really don't have a chance of fighting our way out of here, so our next best option is to cooperate, not give them a reason to kill us." Tony squeezed Jimmy's shoulder, staring hard in his direction as if he could actually see him. "That means not going after them if they decide to get a little rough. Understand?"

He heard Jimmy's breath catch in his throat. "But you're already hurt –"

"I've been hurt worse, and anyway, I don't plan on antagonizing them," Tony interrupted. "Look, Jimmy, it was my job to protect you at the crime scene. Just because I got hurt doesn't make it any less my job now. And" – he pulled Jimmy close in a quick hug – "I don't want to see you get hurt, either. So please, Jimmy, do as I say."

Several shots rang out, louder – and presumably closer – than before.

"Okay," Jimmy reluctantly agreed. "Just – just don't get hurt, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Tony promised. "Now, we can't let them know that we're – uh, _close,_" he began.

Jimmy saw where he was leading. "So they can't see us like – this." He leaned in quickly for a fast, hard kiss that left Tony panting. "Or they'll find a way to use it against us." He then pulled away completely, scooting backwards toward the corner of the closet.

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but a thump from outside the closet distracted him. "Was that _below_ us?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Jimmy's disembodied voice responded. "We're on the second floor. I – didn't I tell you?"

"Shh, listen –"

Another thump, and another – they were getting louder, closer – and now Tony could hear voices calling out – "Clear!" "Clear!"

It was the most amazing sound in the world.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Is – is that –?" Jimmy sounded excited, but uncertain.

Tony stretched his hand out as far as he could, catching Jimmy's similarly outstretched hand. "It's them!" He raised his voice. "Hey! We're in here!"

He heard Jimmy move; the younger man got to his feet and started to pull Tony up after him. "Let me help – ooh…" Tony's head snapped up in alarm as Jimmy's hand loosened its grip on his. Jimmy's upper body thumped into the wall above him; then he slid down it until he was once again on the floor.

"Jimmy?" Tony couldn't keep the anxiety out of his voice.

Jimmy moaned. "Ohh, that wasn't a good idea," he mumbled.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Jimmy didn't have a chance to answer before they heard a much louder crash, very close, and a woman's voice yelling out, "Clear!"

"Ziva!" Tony shouted. "In here!"

He heard Ziva try the doorknob. "Tony! Is Palmer with you?"

Tony slid his arm around Jimmy's shoulders and pulled him closer. Jimmy leaned his head on Tony's shoulder, moaning softly. "Yeah, he's here!"

Tony then bent his head so that his mouth was close to Jimmy's ear. "Jimmy, what's wrong?"

Outside, he could hear Ziva speaking, presumably into her wrist microphone. "Gibbs, they're locked in a closet on the second floor. Send Ducky up."

"Jimmy?"

"Sorry, Tony. Got dizzy… blood sugar's too low…"

Tony frowned – then his eyes widened as the realization hit him. _He's diabetic! How could I forget…?_

"Ziva! Can you get us out?"

"I am working on it, Tony," came the terse reply.

"Anthony?" That was Ducky's voice calling through the door. "Are you or Jimmy injured?"

Tony pressed his lips to Jimmy's forehead briefly before replying. "He's got a couple black eyes, I've got a dislocated shoulder, but –"

"Head injury," Jimmy mumbled.

"What?" Tony blinked, then rolled his eyes. "_And_ I got hit in the head," he continued, loud enough for Ducky to hear. "But Jimmy nearly passed out just now."

"Hypoglycemia?"

Tony paused to work his way through the word, but Jimmy was already nodding his head against Tony's shoulder. He decided to take the med student's word for it. "Yeah," he called out to Ducky.

"I suspected as much," Ducky responded. "As soon as Agent David lets me in, I can do something about that."

Tony could hear small, metallic scratching sounds coming from the door. "Almost… there!"

The door was wrenched open, spilling light into the tiny room. Tony blinked rapidly, trying to force his eyes to adjust quickly. He saw Ziva's silhouette briefly, before she stepped aside to allow Ducky access to the room.

Jimmy had brought one hand up to shield his eyes when the door opened; his other arm was wrapped around Tony's torso, and that hand was gripping the fabric of Tony's shirt. Tony's good arm tightened around Jimmy's shoulders as Ducky lowered himself to his knees next to them.

The doctor reached for Jimmy's hand, pulling it down so that he could check the pulse. Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head so he could hide his face in Tony's shoulder.

Ducky glanced up at the ceiling. "Have you been in the dark all this time?" he asked Tony quietly.

Tony shook his head. "It just went out a little while ago," he explained.

"I see." Ducky studied Jimmy's huddled form for a moment, then shook his head. "We'll need to get him out into the room – I'm afraid I can't see well enough in here." He twisted to look behind him. "Ziva, if you would be so kind?"

Ziva finished tucking her lockpicks into her pocket and stepped into the closet. Together, she and Ducky pried Jimmy away from Tony and pulled him to his feet, supporting him on either side as they made their way sideways through the door and into the next room.

Tony started to follow, but Gibbs stepped through the door and crouched down next to him before he could manage to get his feet under him.

Gibbs glanced at Tony's shoulder. "Dislocated?"

"Yeah," Tony responded. "Jimmy popped it back in, though." He craned his neck to look past Gibbs, but couldn't see anything from his position.

"We'll take you to the ER, get it checked out." Gibbs looked around at their closet prison. "What happened?"

Tony shook his head. "You're going to have to ask Jimmy, Boss. I got knocked out first thing; then I was in here. All I know of what happened in between is what he told me."

"He tell you he texted the license plate on his phone?"

"Yeah." Tony nodded. "Did it make it through?"

"No, but we found it when we found your phones." Gibbs looked back at Tony. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting him to have been any help for you, especially after we found the car."

Tony frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It looks like they packed the two of you into the trunk to get you here," Gibbs explained. "I know he's claustrophobic. Figured he'd freeze up." He waved his hand at the walls of the closet. "Wouldn't think he'd do too well in here, either."

Tony stared out the door, lost in thought. He only remembered bits and pieces of their experience in the trunk. But two impressions stood out. First, the wildly waving phone light, as Jimmy attempted to send what he knew to Abby. Then afterwards, in total darkness, feeling Jimmy's arms tight around him, holding him close; and if Jimmy was sobbing into his shoulder as he held him, Tony knew it was only _after_ he'd done everything else he could to keep them safe.

Then there was the closet. Tony hadn't come to until after Jimmy had popped his shoulder back into place – and the first thing he'd done upon waking was attack the man who was trying to help him. Even so, Jimmy had come right back to him, had finished with what first aid he could apply. And while he'd had some difficulties caused by their confinement, he'd only had a major episode once – and Tony still had an odd feeling about the fact that it was what they'd done to Tony – not Jimmy – that had affected him so strongly.

He looked up at Gibbs. "He kept it together when it counted, and he did everything he could to get us out of this. Would you have found us without the license plate number?"

Gibbs took his head. "Not this quickly," he admitted. "We would have gotten here eventually, but it wouldn't have been in time, from the sound of it." He looked toward the other room where they'd taken Jimmy.

Suddenly Tony couldn't sit still any longer. He held out a hand. "Help me up, Boss?" He gestured with his head toward the door.

Gibbs pulled him up and escorted him out of the closet, one hand resting lightly on his back. Out in the bedroom – for that was what it was – Jimmy was sitting on the floor near the door with his head resting against the wall, while Ducky was doing something with what Tony assumed was a glucose monitor. Ziva was looking through the drawers of a nightstand by the bed.

"Where's Probie?" Tony asked, not seeing McGee anywhere in the room or out in the hall.

Gibbs smiled grimly. "Watching over the bodies outside until another team can get here."

"How many?" Tony tried to remember how many gunshots he'd heard.

"Three."

"You're missing one," Jimmy spoke up. All eyes turned to him. "There were four guys at the crime scene."

Gibbs sighed and shook his head. "Think you can remember well enough to describe for a sketch?" He didn't sound hopeful, and even Tony had to admit that he had cause. The last time Jimmy'd had to describe a suspect, it hadn't gone at all well.

The half smile on Jimmy's face told them that he knew exactly what they were thinking; but that smile did not reach his eyes. "Depending on which one's still out there," he replied. "I can try, anyway."

Ducky held up a hand. "But not just now, Mr. Palmer," he interrupted. "While you seem to be recovering quickly enough, I must insist –"

"Calm down, Ducky. I wasn't expecting him to do it right now," Gibbs placated the doctor. "Tomorrow will be soon enough, if he's feeling up to it."

Jimmy nodded, though Ducky still seemed unconvinced.

Ziva slipped past Tony into the closet. He stuck his head in after her and said, "If you're looking for the drugs, they're up there." He indicated the boxes.

"Which one?"

"All of them."

Ziva raised her eyebrows at him. "We were expecting _something_ after Abby found traces on the sergeant's clothing, but this is quite a large amount."

Tony nodded. "You'll need to exclude Jimmy's prints. We were looking for anything useful. Didn't find anything, though."

"Oh, I don't know, Tony," Ziva teased. "It looks like you've found some new clothing. That sweater really brings out the green in your eyes."

Tony looked back at Jimmy, but the younger man had his eyes closed and didn't notice.

Ducky stood and made his way over to Tony. "May I take a look?" he asked, gesturing toward the shoulder.

Tony started to shrug, then thought better of it. "Sure, go ahead."

As Ducky prodded at his shoulder, Tony kept his eyes on the other patient. Jimmy looked awful; his face was pale where it wasn't bruised and swollen. "Ducky, how is he?" Tony asked in a low voice.

Ducky's answer was just as muted. "I doubt that any of the bones of his face are broken, but we'll take x-rays just to be sure." He pulled the collar of Tony's shirt open so he could check the amount of bruising at the shoulder. "As for his diabetes – frankly, I wasn't sure what to expect when we got here. It's difficult to predict how stress will affect the level of glucose in the blood, and I couldn't remember his medication schedule–"

"How bad did it get? And why didn't he tell me?"

Ducky shook his head, a tiny smile on his lips. "Well, I think we both know how stubborn Jimmy can be when he sets his mind to it. He may not have wanted to worry you. But honestly, Anthony, it's possible that he didn't even notice the symptoms until they'd progressed to the point that they were affecting his judgment. It's a common occurrence among diabetics after they've had the disease for a while."

Tony frowned. Something about what Ducky had said was bothering him; but he also realized that Ducky hadn't answered his first question. "So how bad did he get? Gibbs said that without the license plate number, you might not have gotten here in time –"

Ducky sighed. "It was still closer than I would have liked," he admitted. "His blood sugar level was getting quite low. If it had taken us much longer…" He shook his head again.

Tony felt sick. Ducky's reluctance to continue told him just how very serious the situation could have been.

He felt Gibbs' hand on his good shoulder. "There wasn't anything you could have done even if you had known," he pointed out. "But it didn't happen. Remember that."

Tony shook his head, but he wasn't about to argue with the Boss.

Gibbs' phone rang. He answered it, listened for a moment, then hung up. "Ryan's team is here," he said. "They'll assist with the scene. Ziva, you're with Ducky. Take these two to the ER to get checked out. McGee and I will process the scene." He squeezed Tony's shoulder, then let go. "Then go home and get some rest." It was as close as he'd ever come to saying he was glad to see them alive; but it was good enough for Tony.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The next afternoon, Tony sat on his couch, remote control held loosely in his good hand. His right arm was held securely in a sling – a real sling this time. It was blue. Tony remembered Ziva's comment about the green cardigan, and he had to wonder if Jimmy had chosen it on purpose.

He'd been given the next three days off. More accurately, he had been ordered by Gibbs to stay home and rest his shoulder. He'd be on desk duty for the next few weeks, and he wasn't looking forward to it. This was going to be worse than recovering from the plague, at least as far as his abilities at work were concerned. He wasn't the fastest typist at the best of times; how was he going to manage with his dominant hand out of commission?

Tony sighed and went back to flipping through channels, though he really wasn't paying attention to the television. He was thinking about the hours he'd spent locked in a closet with a frightened young man in his arms; the way Jimmy's lips had felt on his; and something Ducky had said to him once they'd been rescued.

He'd done his own research online when he'd awoke earlier that afternoon; the writers at WebMD had clarified Ducky's remarks for him. He'd read that the symptoms of mild hypoglycemia – low blood sugar – included sweating, shaking, and anxiety. No wonder Jimmy hadn't noticed – after all, who could tell the difference between anxiety caused by medical issues and anxiety caused by being kidnapped and locked up in tiny spaces?

He'd gone on to read about the next stage of hypoglycemia, which included confusion, unsteadiness when standing or walking, and personality changes among its symptoms. Well, he'd seen – heard, really – Jimmy's inability to stand, there at the end. It was the other two that he couldn't stop thinking about: confusion and personality changes. Had Jimmy had those symptoms as well? Ducky had said something about Jimmy not noticing his symptoms until they were affecting his judgment; at what point did that happen? Say, before he'd kissed Tony? Or even earlier, when he let Tony hold him, when he didn't protest against Tony's flirting?

But even those thoughts, as uncomfortable as they were, were better than thinking about what else he'd learned – the symptoms of severe hypoglycemia. Seizures. Coma. Stroke. Death.

Tony dropped the remote and ran his hand through his hair, avoiding the spot where he'd been hit. God, what would he have done if things had progressed to that point? The more rational side of his brain insisted that there was nothing he could have done to prevent it; but the guilt that had settled in the pit of his stomach kept asking what if, what if…?

He was startled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. It was only 3:30; too early for McGee or Ziva to stop in after work to check on him, as he half-expected them to do. He walked barefoot to the door, automatically looking down to make sure he wasn't too underdressed, and looked through the peephole.

What he saw had him hurrying to unlock the door and fling it open.

"Jimmy! What are you doing here?"

Jimmy smiled nervously at Tony. "Uh, I just stopped by to see how you were doing," he explained quickly. "Is it a bad time? I can – uh – go, if you –"

Tony shook his head quickly – God, he probably looked as nervous as Jimmy – and opened his door wider. "No, come in," he invited the younger man. "I just – wasn't expecting to see you out and about yet."

"Oh, Ducky won't let me back in Autopsy yet," Jimmy told him as they moved to the couch and sat down – at opposite ends. "Not officially, anyway. But Gibbs wanted me to come in and identify the bodies, and then I worked with Abby to sketch the fourth guy." The smile disappeared, and he shuddered.

Tony started to move closer, then hesitated. "You know it's not likely that he even knows who we are, right?" he asked cautiously, watching Jimmy closely. "They most likely just grabbed us because we were there."

Jimmy nodded. "I know," he said quietly, not meeting Tony's eyes. "But – it's the guy who – who hurt you that got away. And they don't know who he is…"

Tony noticed that Jimmy was wearing his glasses today. The bruising around his eyes was so colorful that he hadn't seen them at first. "So you got your glasses back?" he asked, trying to distract him.

"No, these are an old pair." Jimmy pushed them farther up his nose. "The prescription I had was more than a year old, so I need a new exam before I can get them replaced. Ducky's going to take me tomorrow on his lunch hour."

"Can you see okay to drive in those?"

Jimmy shook his head. "Agent Gibbs picked me up this morning." He shuddered again, but in an exaggerated fashion. "I told him I'd catch a cab home. He thought I was too scared of his driving." He grinned at Tony.

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Do you mean you _weren't_ scared of his driving?"

"Oh, I didn't say _that_," Jimmy said with a laugh. Then he looked at Tony, and his smile faded a bit. "I – just didn't want to go home yet." The parts of his face that weren't black and blue flushed red, and he looked down at the floor.

Hope and fear – and guilt – chased each other in tight circles in Tony's mind. Struggling to keep his voice even, he said, "Jimmy, I don't know what you remember from yesterday…"

Jimmy's skin went from red to white; he drew in a shaky breath. Then he looked up, and Tony was surprised to see that his eyes were filled with tears. "How much do you want me to forget?" he asked quietly.

Tony was confused; then, he began to understand. _Does he think I only did it to keep him from freaking out?_ he wondered. _Or does he think that I regret it now? Because he seems to be saying…_ Out loud, he asked, "Is there anything you _want_ to forget?"

"Well, there's a _few_ things I wouldn't mind forgetting," Jimmy said, his voice shaking. He looked down again. "Like how I – I totally panicked in the trunk after he took the phone." His hands were shaking, so he twisted his fingers together to hide it. "Or – or the sound of your shoulder popping, or when you were screaming –" He shook his head abruptly and took a deep breath.

Then he looked at Tony again, and Tony thought that he'd never seen Jimmy look so – vulnerable. "But there are also some things from yesterday that I don't ever want to forget. I'd understand if – if you did, but I –"

"I don't, Jimmy," Tony interrupted. He stood up and held out his hand; Jimmy took it and stood, though he was careful not to pull on it. "I just thought – honestly, Jimmy, I was afraid I was taking advantage of your being scared, and then later when Ducky said you – you might not have been thinking clearly –"

Jimmy's laugh interrupted him. "I _was_ scared, Tony, I won't lie. But I wasn't _that_ bad. And you weren't taking advantage of me. If you had – well, you wouldn't have needed to ask me later if I wanted to remember it." He gave Tony a sly grin. "But given our circumstances, it's just as well you didn't. I mean, they could have come back and – ah, caught us in the act…"

Tony was used to being the one with the dirty mind in any relationship, but he was surprised – and delighted – to find that Jimmy was just as bad as he was. He couldn't help but tease… "Forget _them_ – I was more worried about Gibbs! Even if _he_ hadn't caught us in the act – well, it _was_ a crime scene. Everything in there would have been examined as evidence – including the clothes we were wearing!"

Jimmy's eyes widened; he had _not_ thought about that. "Okay. No sex at crime scenes. Got it."

"Thank you. I do _not_ want to explain how I'm breaking Rule 12 and compromising evidence at the same time."

"Does that mean you plan on breaking Rule 12?" Jimmy asked with a smile, but Tony could see the tiniest hint in his eyes of that vulnerable side he'd shown earlier.

Tony stepped closer and carefully touched his fingers to Jimmy's face, looking into his eyes. "Depends. Are you going to break it with me?" he whispered.

Jimmy answered, not with words, but with a long, gentle kiss that had Tony reconsidering his assumption that Jimmy'd had no previous interest in guys. Then Jimmy guided him back to the couch and sat down, carefully pulling Tony down next to him.

"Unfortunately, I don't think either of us are recovered enough to continue that particular conversation," Jimmy said, though he placed his hand on Tony's knee as he spoke. "But I thought that maybe we could just hang out, maybe watch one of those movies that you insist I need to see…"

Tony put his good hand over Jimmy's and squeezed. "You'll definitely need to if you want to understand all the obscure quotes I use." He picked up the remote control – he had a pretty good movie in the DVD player already – and pressed play. "But maybe tomorrow night…" he started as he made himself comfortable, snuggling against Jimmy's side.

"What?"

Tony lifted his head and brushed his lips against Jimmy's. "Maybe tomorrow night, you could read me a bedtime story. One of those books that you insist I need to read."

Jimmy smiled, his lips touching Tony's. "It's a deal."

Which they sealed with a kiss.

* * *

><p>If you've stuck around this long, I'd like to thank you for reading. Your reviews have been very kind, and have made me feel all warm and fuzzy. :)<p>

I've been working on the immediate follow-up to this story for a year now, and still haven't gotten it quite right. I'll post it as soon as it's readable, I promise, but don't hold your breath. However, when the O'Dark Thirty and Groundhog's Day challenges were issued on NFA, I jumped ahead and wrote a sci-fi/AU story that uses the events of this one as the back story for why Jimmy and Tony are together. (And then I missed both challenge deadlines, darn it all.) So if you can ignore the gap in the storyline (and I wrote it so you'd know everything you need to know about the unfinished story), and if you don't mind sci-fi, watch for me to start posting _Groundhog's Night_ soon!


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